


Pomp and Circumstance

by Taliya



Series: Fanfare [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Moving On, Parent-Child Relationship, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:44:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliya/pseuds/Taliya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight years after the second disappearance of Kaitou KID from the world stage, the mysterious phantom makes yet another miraculous return.  And when he does, Conan is there every step of the way.  Major references to character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pomp and Circumstance

**Author's Note:**

> Detective Conan and Magic Kaito characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Aoyama Gōshō.

_There were many things that Edogawa Conan had done over the course of his life that were accomplished not in days, weeks, or months, but in years.  It took:_

_Years to bring the main body of the Black Organization down without tipping them off before the take down had even begun._

_Years to hunt down the strays from said organization so that they would never harm another person again._

_Years to realize that no matter what combination of compounds Haibara tried, no final antidote would be forthcoming._

_Years to reconcile the fact that Kudou Shinichi was, for all intents and purposes, no longer alive._

_Years to recognize that Mouri Ran had transformed from a romantic interest into the older sister he never had._

_Years to learn how to perform the complicated tricks designed to fool even the most logical of minds._

_Years to mourn over the untimely death of one Kuroba Kaito, better known to the world as Kaitou KID._

_Years to figure out the answer to Kaitou KID’s last riddle and ponder the implications of another Organization out there._

_Years to deliberate and finally find the resolve to fulfill the phantom thief’s last request._

\---

“I’m back,” a sixteen-year-old Edogawa Conan called, entering the home of Kuroba Chikage.  Dressed in the black Ekoda High School gakuran, he was almost an identical replica of the late Kuroba Kaito, though he still wore the glasses more out of habit nowadays than anything else.  Plus, it was useful to have the built-in gadgets despite being of an age where he actually _could_ physically take care of himself in a fight, if necessary.  He had let his hair grow out slightly out of laziness, and so the characteristic Kudou Shinichi-cowlick was no longer quite so distinctive.

“Welcome home,” called the woman from the kitchen, the smell of yakisoba drifting towards the genkan as he slid his shoes into the getabako and snagged his customary pair of house slippers. He shuffled into the kitchen, watching the mother and wife of the two previous Kaitou KIDs as she shut the stove off and covered the pile of stir fried noodles, vegetables, and pork in the wok. The former Phantom Lady wiped her hands on a dishrag before swiveling to observe her live-in houseguest. Her expression crumpled into one of nostalgia as she gazed at the teen.  “Conan,” she murmured with a hint of sadness and longing, “You look almost exactly like my Kaito when he was that age.”  She chuckled.  “Just without that constant air of mischief and that eternally untamable hair.”

Empathy welling in his chest, the teen strode forward and engulfed the woman in a gentle hug.  “I miss him too, Chikage-san,” he murmured, recalling the playful yet competitive taunting and maneuvering he and Kaito engaged in whenever they had crossed paths as detective and thief.

It had not been long after Kuroba Kaito’s death in a snowy automobile accident eight years ago when eight-year-old Edogawa Conan, who was in reality eighteen-year-old Kudou Shinichi, had begun investigating the man behind the white top hat and monocle.  He was not terribly surprised to learn that there had been two men who wore the cape of Kaitou KID: Kuroba Kaito and his father, Kuroba Touichi. His search—which he performed in fits and starts because it just _hurt_ knowing KID was simply _gone_ —had led him to Ekoda, to the home of the widowed and now-childless Kuroba Chikage.

Conan had desperately wanted to attend Kuroba Kaito’s funeral the week after his death, but he had been occupied by a murder case that occurred just after he left the Mouri Detective Agency for Beika Station.  He had helped the Division One Homicide Unit officers solve the case as quickly as he could, but by the time the case was wrapped up hours later, the funeral was assuredly over. Frustrated and still mourning, he had retreated to Beika Park, spending the rest of the Saturday afternoon rerunning every encounter he had had with the phantom thief in his head, smiling bitterly at the memories.

When he had finally met Kuroba Chikage, it did not take long before they shortly discovered that his mother, then-Fujimine and now Kudou Yukiko, had taken disguising lessons from Chikage’s late husband, Kuroba Touichi.  It was at that moment when Conan had decided to explain his situation in full to the grieving woman. Chikage found out that one Thursday evening that Edogawa Conan was actually a shrunken Kudou Shinichi, that the detective had pursued her son during several of his moonlit escapades, and that in her son’s final moments he had revealed his identity to his favorite critic. Conan had also gone on to explain that he had finally deciphered the message Kaito had given in the form of his last riddle, and that as a last favor to his favorite rival, he would pick up where Kaitou KID had left off.

It had been a long mental argument in which he had heavily weighed his morals as a detective against the right thing to do—which was to draw out this other Organization in the guise of the thief. And if he decided to take the route that led him into committing grand larceny, amongst a number of other crimes, he could not pull in the FBI and CIA without exposing his identity as both KID and Conan. He also had no desire to draw attention to whoever KID’s assistant(s?) were, because he was going to require their expertise and advice to successfully pull off becoming KID if he decided to pursue that course of action.

Kaitou KID had been a criminal, true, but he had been a proper gentleman, a rarity even amidst normal, law-abiding citizens. He was also one of the exceptional few who could keep up intellectually with the miniaturized detective, and Conan had, despite his frustration at never apprehending the thief, enjoyed KID’s heists for the thrill of the hunt and the battle of wits. He had never felt threatened by KID, for everyone knew of the thief’s unspoken nonviolence policy, though he tended towards extreme displeasure whenever KID had disguised as his older self—particularly whenever he flirted with Ran.  The phantom thief had kept him on his toes, constantly analyzing and reevaluating his situation and resources, but always several steps ahead in the game, despite Conan’s sometimes admittedly underhanded tactics.

In the end he had sought advice from his father, Kudou Yuusaku.  Nine-year-old Conan had begged a Saturday afternoon off from both Ran and the Shounen Tantei-dan, choosing instead to sequester himself in his room in the Kudou residence and call the editor-evading mystery writer who [un-]fortunately happened to be genetically related to him.

_“Moshi moshi, Tou-san,” the shrunken detective greeted his father._

_“Shinichi?” Yuusaku’s voice was groggy with sleep; it was, after all, three in the morning in New York City.  “Shinichi?” the writer repeated, suddenly much more awake after registering his son’s despondent, troubled tone.  “What’s wrong?”_

_“I…” Shinichi stumbled when the words needed to explain his conundrum failed to come, and he struggled to formulate a single coherent sentence.  “I—Tou-san, do the ends justify the means if the end means that a crime syndicate gets taken down, but in the process you commit crimes yourself and compromise your own morals?”  The words suddenly tumbled out, and Shinichi winced at how disorganized his thoughts were. It was a far cry from the smooth, polished deductions he routinely delivered to the members of the Division One Homicide Unit during murder cases._

_His father was silent as he rolled the idea over in his mind.  “May I ask what brought about this… dilemma of yours, Shinichi?”_

_“Do you remember,” the shrunken detective asked softly, “The riddle Kaitou KID gave me when he died last year?”_

_“I do. I take it you solved it then?”_

_“Yes,” Shinichi answered.  The slip of paper he had received from Kuroba Kaito, the letter and the riddle that explained KID’s purpose, had remained with him, for Shinichi had not taken what essentially amounted to the last will and testament of Kaitou KID public. The media would have a field day, and KID’s fans would undoubtedly take it upon themselves to solve the riddle without thought to the shadowy Organization that hunted for the gem in question. Instead he had kept the note secret except from his parents, Agasa, and Haibara, though he kept KID’s identity solely to himself.  Whenever he had a spare moment, in the privacy of his mind, he was busily working away at the coded message, desperate to discover why KID had sought and returned precious gems and why he had been pursued by a separate crime syndicate.  And when he had finally uncovered the truth…_

_“Shinichi,” Yuusaku murmured quietly.  “You’re thinking about taking up KID’s mantle, aren’t you?”_

_The boy flushed.  “Am I that easy to read?” he groused ruefully but without heat._

_His father chortled. “No,” he answered easily. “I just know my son.”_

_Shinichi laughed ruefully.  “I suppose.” The fleeting mirth dissipated. “Your thoughts, Tou-san?”_

_Yuusaku sighed deeply, the sound hissing over the line.  “I’m not sure how I can help you with this one, Shinichi,” he replied sympathetically.  “I can give you all the advice in the world, but ultimately it comes down to how you feel over your choices and whether or not you believe the reward is worth the risk. Since you have all the pieces in your hands, there really isn’t much I can advise you on.  I would suggest you question the motivations for your decisions though: do you think Kuroba Kaito became Kaitou KID simply to avenge his father, or because he believed this Organization of his needed to be stopped? Or perhaps it was a combination of both, or something else entirely?  And most importantly, are you picking up KID’s costume for mostly the same reasons?”_

_“You—” Shinichi was stunned into silence. “You—you knew KID’s identity?!”_

_The mystery writer chuckled miserably.  “Kuroba Touichi and I were what Kaito-kun was to you.  We chased, taunted, and quarreled, just as you did with his son. When Touichi died…” Yuusaku’s voice trailed off, and Shinichi could tell that his father still felt the ache of the loss of his friend, even after all these years.  “Kaito-kun was every bit as gifted an actor, performer, and magician as Touichi was. The Kurobas are… one of a kind. You’ll likely never meet another like them in terms of sheer brilliance in their ability to simply_ live _.”_

_Shinichi laughed, understanding his father intimately.  A calculated risk taker Shinichi’s KID had been, but he had always been careful to never physically harm anyone, even going so far as to sustain injuries in lieu of another if necessary, and Shinichi suspected that the trait had been handed down from the original Kaitou KID._

_“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Shinichi,” Yuusaku said, and there was genuine remorse in his tone._

_The detective shook his head, murmuring a negative.  “You’ve helped, actually.  Thank you Tou-san.  I still haven’t made a decision, but knowing what I know now, I have more to think about before I make it, and I have a little more perspective to do so.”_

_Shinichi could feel his father’s smile through the phone.  “I’m glad I could do something.  Regardless of what you chose, I’ll back you all the way.”_

_“Thanks.” There was an answering smile on the boy’s face.  “Good night, Tou-san.”_

_“Be careful, Shinichi.”_

Shinichi had lain on his bed for several hours thereafter, contemplating the decision before him with the additional information his father had provided.  He studied the possibilities from every angle imaginable, giving himself a headache in the process.  As the sun finally began to sink below the horizon, he had returned to the Mouri residence, head a little fuller and heart a little calmer though no closer to arriving at a decision.

However, at that point in time Conan had needed a few more years to physically grow up, and so after another year of deliberation he—with the help of his parents disguised as his parents—transferred from living in Beika-chou with the Mouris to Ekoda-chou when he turned ten years of age. Yukiko had been overjoyed at being reunited with her teacher’s wife, and the two women and the mystery author had spent long evenings reminiscing about their pasts regarding their interactions with Kuroba Touichi the magician and friend, and the first Kaitou KID. Chikage had offered Kaito’s old room to Conan when she had initially suggested he move into her home. When the boy objected, the former Phantom Lady had simply whispered in his ear, “You’ll need easy access to a certain equipment and storage room,” and that had been the end of the argument.

As Conan had physically grown, he had begun learning the tricks of the phantom thief trade from Chikage, and had eventually met the assistant both Kaitou KIDs, the aging Jii Konosuke. Between the two of them and his mother, they helped the miniaturized detective develop most of his disguising, acting, and magic abilities.  He also learned more about the illusionary trade from watching recordings of Touichi-KID and Kaito-KID heists, along with magic shows performed by both magicians.  He also enrolled himself in ninjutsu classes to improve his abilities as an escape artist and acrobat, studying the same style both Touichi and Kaito had practiced.  And all the while he put himself through training, he continued to come across homicide cases, working alongside the TMPD Division One Homicide Unit to solve the crimes.  As time went on, he obtained more credibility for his deductions, gaining the respect of the promoted Superintendent Megure Juuzo as well as the increased esteem of Inspector Satou Miwako and Assistant Police Inspector Takagi Wataru. The police began to view him as another up-and-coming detective, though this time the detective in question was still only in junior high school.

Ran had been disappointed to see Conan leave, but as she was in college and no longer lived at home, she believed that it was better that her adopted younger brother found himself in the home of a family friend who would provide for him when she could not.  Her father was more than happy to see him leave, and Conan was equally pleased to no longer have to cohabitate with the alcohol-addicted detective who frequently introduced him as, “The Freeloader”.  Conan’s other motive for leaving the Mouri residence was to ensure that Ran would not see him as a younger carbon copy of her missing friend Kudou Shinichi as he grew older.

The Shounen Tantei-dan had not been pleased in the least with his decision to move.  Ayumi in particular was inconsolable.  It was only after they had extracted a promise from him that they would meet up with every so often that she cheered up slightly, and if he was unable to meet, then he would write or call to them instead. Conan reminded them that they still had their badges to communicate with if they happened to be within range of each other.

Heiji had initially balked at the idea of Conan moving away from the Mouris, afraid of anyone else discovering Shinichi’s secret identity.  When Conan disclosed that he had not only told Kuroba Chikage but that she was also an old and trusted friend of his parents, the Osakan had calmed immediately before inquiring about his situation with Ran.  The shrunken detective then had to explain why he no longer believed in a future with his childhood friend—could not, as Haibara had yet to find an antidote and the chances of her finding one only grew bleaker with time.  He ended the phone call with a reminder not to call him Kudou again—because although he direly wished it was not true, he knew in his deepest of hearts that Kudou Shinichi no longer existed.

Conan had been extremely surprised to discover, upon moving in with Kuroba Chikage, that his nextdoor neighbors were none other than Nakamori Ginzo—head of the Kaitou KID Task Force, and his daughter, Aoko. And suddenly, KID’s ability to slip out of the police’s grasp time after time made so much more sense. The teen had laughed at the irony, astounded by the sheer chutzpah Kuroba Kaito had possessed—to have grown up under the watchful eye of the policeman and yet completely bamboozle the poor man and his team when dressed in the iconic costume of white while keeping his identity secret.

During the years Conan grew, he learned that the now-Superintendent Nakamori was not nearly as incompetent as he had initially thought when the shrunken detective had first encountered him at a KID heist. The policeman actually had a record that spoke of a long list of achievements, backing his claim to the position of Superintendent. Rather, it was just that Kaito was so damned _good_ at what he did that he had made everyone else look like a fumbling beginner, and Conan seriously began to wonder at his ability to successfully resurrect the infamous phantom thief.  Both Chikage and Konosuke had faith in his abilities after teaching and observing him, and their reassurances went a long way towards quieting the voices of doubt inside his head.

Nakamori Aoko had been blindsided the first time she saw him.  Home from Touto University for winter break, she had seen him walking past her and froze, catching a glimpse of achingly familiar facial features.  A vision of a ten-year-old Kaito superimposed itself over the form of the boy walking in front of her.  “Ka—” she tried to say, but her voice stuck in her throat.  As Conan drew further way, panic spurred her feet into a sprint without conscious thought and she reflexively swung her purse straight at his head, expecting the young phantom Kaito to easily dodge as he always did. The bag, however, hit its mark, sending the boy sprawling across the pavement with a yelp.

“Bakaito!” she shouted at the prone boy, tears in her eyes and pain in her voice before she realized her error with a horrified gasp. She had just whacked an unsuspecting ten-year-old boy in the back of the head.  “I'm so sorry!” she squealed apologetically, cheeks blazing in embarrassment as she helped the dazed boy to his feet. “I mistook you for my friend!”

Conan mentally shook himself, initially mistaking the young woman before him for Ran before logic reasserted itself. He prodded the back of his smarting head, feeling it throb beneath his careful fingertips. “Ow…” he hissed with a wince.

The girl was apologizing profusely. “Did I hurt you badly?” she queried with anxiety clear in her eyes.  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she muttered, more to herself, “Since he’s been gone for two years now…”  There was a hitch in her voice that hinted at just how deep her sorrow went for whoever she was referring to.

“It doesn’t hurt that badly, nee-san,” Conan responded carefully, not wanting to upset her more as he reached for his glasses on the pavement and settled them on his nose.

She took a deep breath and tilted her head back, and the ten year old knew she was valiantly refraining from crying just then. When she felt she had more control over herself she gazed at the boy.  “What’s your name?”

“Edogawa Conan,” he replied promptly with a nod. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Nakamori Aoko,” she said immediately, nodding her head in reply.  “Likewise.” She eyed him curiously. “Did you just move here?”

“I live in that house there—” he pointed to the Kuroba residence, “—with Chikage-san.”

She blinked.  “Really?  Then I live next door to you.  I was best friends with Kaito, who used to live there.”  Her eyes dimmed as she recalled her childhood friend.  Then she shook herself, pushing the memories of the prankster to the back of her mind.  “Well then, neighbor,” she said with a small grin, “How about I treat you to a snack as repayment for whacking you in the back of the head?  I still feel so bad about that…”

Conan recognized the rare opportunity to learn more about Kuroba Kaito from a friend’s perspective, and assented. They spent the afternoon out, with Aoko recalling her favorite memories and Conan simply soaking in the information like a sponge.  From the young woman he ascertained that there had been a mutual romantic interest between the two of them, that Kaito had been regularly stalked by the half-English detective Hakuba Saguru during high school, and had a somewhat stilted relationship with another classmate, Koizumi Akako.  The afternoon had only ended when Aoko had extracted a promise from Conan to watch over Kuroba-san, and they parted with grins on their faces.

\---

It was after coming home from ninjutsu practice one evening that the detective found both Konosuke and Chikage in the kitchen in serious discussion.  A covered bowl of warm donburi sat on the table waiting for him.  Two sets of eyes settled on him as he sat down, hair still damp from his shower.  He gazed at both of them questioningly, and Chikage answered, “Go ahead and eat first, we’ll discuss it afterwards.  And no, you’re not in trouble and it’s nothing bad.”

Conan muttered, “I gratefully receive,” and quickly but quietly finished his meal, listening to the others’ light conversation. After he had cleaned his bowl, the sixteen year old set it aside with a murmured, “Thank you for the feast,” and gave his mentors his full attention.  “What was it you wished to speak with me about?” he asked.

A melancholy, yet proud smile graced Kuroba Chikage’s beautiful face.  “Conan,” she murmured, gazing upon the fact of the boy she had all but legally adopted as her own.  “We—Jii-san and I—think you are ready to hold your first heist.”

Conan felt his stomach drop even as his heart began to pound with mingled anticipation, nervousness, and excitement. “You think so?” he asked, hope coloring his voice.

“You’ve been a quick study from the start,” KID’s assistant explained, “And because you were able to see through Bocchama’s illusions in the end, it will make it that much easier for you to plan your own. You of course, have our knowledge and expertise at your disposal.”

“Just to be clear: you do realize that should you participate in helping me with the heists, there is a definite possibility that you will be hunted by the Organization that pursued both Touichi and Kaito, correct?”  Conan wanted the two to go in with eyes wide open.

Chikage’s expression folded slightly, but her eyes blazed with determination.  “They took my husband, and they targeted my son.  There is nothing that will keep me from helping you if it means exposing them,” she stated with unquestionable resolve.

Jii nodded.  “Touichi-sama was first and foremost my friend, and Bocchama was an amazing young man.  I would have followed them to the ends of the earth if I could, and to see you, a detective who had given me more heart attacks during Bocchama’s stint as KID, decide to don the hat and monocle means more to me than I could ever express. If my help is necessary to take them down, then please utilize me whenever you need me.”

“Come,” Chikage entreated, rising from the table. “I think it’s time we show you KID’s primary base of operations.”

Conan eagerly followed, having been for the past eight years unable to enter KID’s workroom, though he knew exactly where the entrance was.  The portal was extremely secure, and no amount of tugging, picking, or wiggling the frame could open the entrance.  The detective had spent hours staring at the portrait of Kuroba Touichi in his room, pondering exactly what sort of locking mechanism had been used.  He had also spent a great deal of time wondering about the magician in the portrait, had wondered just how closely Kaito had been to the man to follow so closely in his footsteps.  Certainly Conan loved his father dearly, but there had always been an element of competitiveness to their relationship.  Perhaps Kaito might have developed a similar relationship, had either of them survived—but no one would ever know now.

Chikage soon stood before the portrait of Kuroba Touichi, her eyes misting as she gazed upon her late other half, and both Jii and Conan gave her a moment of privacy.  “This way,” she said, her voice the slightest bit quivery, and she pressed a hand into the right edge of the canvas itself.  There was a click, and then she was suddenly gone, the newly-revealed panel rotating on a central vertical axis, flipping between images of Kuroba Touichi, magician, and Kuroba Touichi, Kaitou KID.

The teenaged detective smacked the heel of his hand into his forehead.  “I should have guessed,” he groused, eliciting a laugh from Jii.

“Touichi-sama was always a wily one,” he commented before he gestured for Conan to enter.  “I’ll take the back way.  These old bones can’t handle as much jostling as I wish they could.”  The older man exited the bedroom, and Conan was left regarding the gently smiling face of the black-suited Kuroba Touichi.

“If you’ve been as much of an influence on Kaito as I think you have,” he murmured, “You must have been a very good man, and I wish I could have gotten to know you better.”

With only the merest hint of hesitation, he placed his hand on the canvas and pushed.  A surprised shrill escaped him as the panel gave way more easily than he anticipated, and he flipped head over heels once before landing with a grunt in the strategically-placed armchair.  A dimly-lit room with black and white checked tile flooring greeted him, and Kuroba Chikage stood off to the side of an antique jukebox. There was a nostalgic twist to the smirk that graced her lips, though she gracefully unfurled herself from where she stood near a worktable.  “Welcome,” she intoned solemnly but warmly, “To the Kaitou KID workroom.”

As she spoke, the lights in the ceiling turned on, illuminating the dark space so that Conan could see what the room hid. There was a white 1969 Alfa Romeo Spider sitting in a corner to the left of the jukebox, and to the right of the music machine was where Chikage stood.  Various pieces of equipment either lay on neat shelving or hung off the walls in orderly fashion; the area was efficient and economical. Behind him a door opened, and Conan stood from his seat to find a metal spiral staircase that led upwards to another entrance that Jii had made use of.  To the right of the stairs were several tall cylindrical tanks that Conan had little doubt contained the sleeping gas KID had been so fond of. There were other smaller phials and glass bottles with a bright red liquid contained within on another table close by, along with a mask and industrial-grade chemistry equipment designed for mixing chemicals of both the liquid and gas variety.

Conan took the room in as he spun on his heel, eyes landing on the notorious card gun on a table to the left of the staircase. Hung on the wall beyond it was a grappling gun and other projectile-type weapons that did not shoot bullets, all designed with evasion and escape in mind.  Every single table in the room had its own stack of papers, and as Conan began to tentatively rifle through them, discovered they were blueprints and equations—the designs for all the gadgets and supplies that Kaitou KID had utilized for his heists.  And the teen, gazing upon the detailed and scaled design for a prototype card gun that shot in triplicate, assignable patterns and ranges with the twist of a knob, was once again amazed at Kuroba Kaito’s sheer ingenuity.

He turned to find both Chikage and Jii watching him once more, standing by the armchair.  He returned to them, and the Kuroba widow smiled.  “Last but not least,” she said, and tapped a tile on the floor. Behind the pair a box rose from the floor, stopping after it had grown taller than any of them and popping open two mirrored doors to reveal a wardrobe—containing Kaitou KID’s trademark outfit.

The sheen of the silk shimmered under the lights in hues of dove white, cobalt blue, and rose red.  The monocle gleamed from its place at the eye of the mannequin, the forest green clover charm winking as it swayed to a standstill. Conan approached the outfit, slowly, reverently, reaching a hesitant hand out to brush the cape with tembling fingertips.  The fabric slid smoothly between his fingers as his mind was assaulted by memories of Kaito wearing this exact outfit and grinning that smug smirk at him with mischievous joy lighting his eyes.

“Get changed,” Chikage said, leading Jii out of the work room, “Then come out to the living room when you’re done. We’d like to meet the newest Kaitou KID.”  They exited with a click of the door, and Conan was faced with the regalia of two ghosts. The knowledge of the purpose of that suit, the burden of responsibility, settled on his shoulders as he took a deep breath and reached for the button of the jacket.

He undid all of the buttons on the jacket and shirt first, then angled the doors so that he would not see himself before he stripped, placing his clothes on the armchair.  The button up went on first, and Conan was unsurprised to discover TMPD patches and detailing on the arms and shoulders.  The tie went on next, and Conan briefly recalled that Kaito-KID had likely preferred the Four-in-Hand knot due to the fact that it was a self-releasing knot.  The white trousers went on next, and the gentleman thief-to-be took note of the sheer number of hidden pockets the pants contained.  The black leather belt followed, and lastly came the jacket, which again contained numerous hidden pockets and sleeves.  The shoulders of the jacket bunched slightly from the police detailing from the shirt below despite the tailoring, but after attaching the cape with the decorative ruffling at the shoulders, the bulkiness was hardly noticeable. Conan pulled the patent loafers from the bottom of the wardrobe and toed them on after pulling on matching cobalt socks. Conan finally perched the top hat on his head and pressed the nosepiece of the monocle securely on the bridge of his nose, pulling the white gloves on last.  Hooking his fingers on one of the door mirrors, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and swung the mirror to face him before opening his eyes.

Kaitou KID stared back at him, looking somewhat anxious and unsure of himself.  Conan blinked, watching the thief in the full body mirror reflect his actions perfectly. _It’s… surreal…_ he thought dazedly, a gloved hand reaching out to lightly touch the silvered glass.  _That’s Kaitou KID… that’s… that’s_ me _…_

The realization that he was officially the third successor to the Kaitou KID name finally sank in, and he exhaled heavily. His hand swept up to the brim of the hat, and he pushed a grin on his face, nearly stumbling back in shock as Kaito-KID smirked back at him.  “Kami-sama,” he breathed, noting that his longer hair looked just plain messy under the top hat, “I really _do_ look like Kaito…”

Conan wrenched himself away from the mirror, knowing that Chikage and Jii were probably immensely curious and anxiously awaiting his appearance in the living room.  He suddenly wondered if the Inspector would see him through the windows, but then figured that Chikage would not be so careless as to leave the windows uncovered.  He ascended the metal stairs, feeling distinctly odd as he walked around the house in outdoor shoes, but also feeling that if he did not wear them, the KID attire would be incomplete.

He stepped out into the main upstairs hallway, padding down the stairs on silent feet to the living room. True to prediction, the curtains had all been drawn as he descended the main staircase, hesitance in his steps.

“I see your feet, Conan,” Chikage singsong called. “Come down already!”

 _You’re Kaitou KID,_ the detective rebuked himself, _So act like it!_ Pep talk done, he quickly retreated up the stairs, only to appear before his two mentors in a cloud of pink smoke and a flare of white silk.  “As my Lady requests,” he said suavely, dipping into a bow with an impish grin as he presented her with a red rose.

The former Phantom Lady laughed. “Such cheek,” she cooed, marveling at just how well Conan wore the suit as she accepted the blossom. “But,” she said, reaching out to pat her adopted son affectionately on the cheek, “You don’t have to be Kaito, Conan.”  She smiled with muted pain in her eyes as Conan cocked his head questioningly. “You _are_ Kaitou KID,” she said, trying her best to explain her thoughts. “But you are also Edogawa Conan, or even Kudou Shinichi.  You are not Kuroba Kaito.  As my son before you did, he imitated Touichi’s KID perfectly, yet still added his own personal flair to the character.  What I’m saying is…” Chikage fumbled for the right words to get her idea across.  “Behind, or even in spite of Kaitou KID’s Poker Face, you can still be _you_.”

And Conan felt something uncoil within him that he had not realized had been wound tightly enough to spring at the slightest provocation.  With a mental start he realized it had been a nagging sense of inferiority, that he would never be able to match either Kuroba Touichi or Kuroba Kaito as Kaitou KID. The fear that he would destroy KID’s image when he had only wanted to help, that he would prove that he could not handle the responsibility KID shouldered, had weighed heavily on his mind ever since he had made the decision to become the phantom thief. And Kuroba Chikage’s words had soothed the doubts entirely.

He could be himself.  He was Kaitou KID, but he was also Edogawa Conan, who was once upon a time Kudou Shinichi.  It reminded him of the day he moved into the Kuroba home.

_“Conan-kun,” the former Phantom Lady had said after he had shucked his shoes. His luggage had been moved to the side of the hallway, and he had just slipped house slippers on. The widow had placed both her hands on his shoulders, bending to look him in the eyes.  “In my home, you don’t need to wear a mask. Here, you can be whoever you truly are, be it Edogawa Conan or Kudou Shinichi.”  She smiled a melancholy smile.  “Kaito oftentimes was more KID than Kaito, whenever I was home to witness it.” She shook her head, her grin widening at the memories as tears filled the bottoms of her eyes. “I just want you to be as comfortable here as possible.  I don’t think you yet understand the magnitude of how much I will owe you when this is all over, so please, if there is anything you need, I will do my utmost to procure it.”_

_Conan opened his mouth to remark that his mother would gladly provide anything he required and that he required no recompense from her, but immediately realized that she had not meant monetary possessions.  What she was looking to repay him for was on behalf of the emotional wounds he was and would help close by taking on KID’s mantle.  So instead of replying he reached out and tugged her into a hug, letting the woman wordlessly know that he had no desire to have her repay him, and that he was simply glad he could be of service._

So Conan grinned in a look all his own—a mixture of Kaito’s mischievousness and his own deviousness.   “Well then,” he said lightly, flicking his cape in perfect imitation of Kaito, “Shall we begin researching for gems and writing a heist note?”

\---

Conan took a deep breath to steady himself, channeling a portion of his personality to the fore.  It was a part that few people saw: the mischievous, devious side of his character that never quite grew up, the side that yearned for the rush of adrenaline singing through his veins, the side that surfaced almost exclusively whenever he had faced off with KID in the past.  If he had a mirror, Conan was almost completely positive the smirk that graced his face perfectly imitated Kaito’s when he had masqueraded as the infamous Magician Under the Moonlight.

Jii had dropped a ladder from the security helicopter he was piloting for the night, allowing the black-cloaked Conan to land on the roof without being spotted.  Before he had descended, the elderly assistant had shouted a warm, “Good luck, Conan-sama!”

There was something oddly infectious about wearing the costume with the roar of KID’s fans in his ears. Maybe it was the endorphins surging through his system, maybe it was the fact that he was crusading for new goal that was equally as worthy as the one he had finished, or maybe it was because, for the first time in his life, he was working on the _other_ side of the law.

Whatever it was, he crept along the roof with a barely-contained grin, flattening himself in the eaves as the helicopters’ searchlights passed harmlessly over him before he reached his desired location.  With the use of a smoke bomb, he appeared before the adoring masses of Kaitou KID’s fans on the crest of the rooftop of the museum with arms splayed wide and a loud, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” in English to the sound of them all chanting his name and Nakamori’s gleeful bellowing.  And with his heart pounding with the thrill of the experience, Conan could understand why all of the Kurobas had loved Kaitou KID.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: So here’s the follow up, detailing the rise of Kaitou KID once more. And it’s so freaking long…! Story-wise, I decided to leave this as a oneshot, so that if I decide further down the line to continue writing about Conan’s adventures as the new Kaitou KID, then those would go into a collection of almost standalone oneshots detailing a singular heist or adventure—which I have a few ideas for, but… later. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Completed: 22.06.2015


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